


You Can’t Win With Your Hands Tied

by IvyYara



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Blood, Dork Lovers Server Challenge, Drunk John, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Jealousy, John loses his temper, Light Angst, M/M, Pain, Prompt Fic, Set in late 70's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 21:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18302504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyYara/pseuds/IvyYara
Summary: The one were John is drunk and puts his hands through a window and he doesn't bother to hide the damage. There is a little bit more to it.





	You Can’t Win With Your Hands Tied

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dork Lovers Server Challenge with the prompt, "He'd done a poor job of hiding the damage."  
> Hope you enjoy! Of course I couldn't help but add some fluff, ;p

**You can’t win with your hands tied**

 

 

John stared at his right arm, that he had just put straight through a window. It was still there, with him looking at his hand in confusion. He curled his hand into a fist and opened it again, the blood was trickling down his arm where the glass had cut up his arm, there was still some glass sticking in his skin in some places. He didn’t feel the sting, or any pain, mostly because he was numb because of the amount of alcohol he had consumed that night.

At this point he couldn’t think straight, and didn’t know how it happened, but somewhere in his conscience mind he knew it had something to do with the bloke that was talking and laughing with Roger and was running his hand down his back and had moved dangerously close to his arse, just mere moments before. Just thinking about it again made him grit his teeth and his blood boil. John had never been a violent man; he would rather settle arguments with words.

He also wasn’t the jealous type, but alcohol was never a good advisor. In this instance he couldn’t talk about what was bothering him, the fact that he couldn’t say that the blond drummer was his and that only he could touch him in ways that the other man could only fantasize about, made him so insanely frustrated that he had lost his well-managed temper and had taken it all out on the window that he was standing next to. 

It was no surprise that everyone standing close to him looked up in surprise at the sound of breaking glass. John didn’t have the ability and the reaction speed to hide the damage he had done to his own arm; his mind and motor functions being heavily influenced by the alcohol. For some reason he also didn’t want to, because he had reached his goal, the man had removed his hand from Roger’s back, and looked at him as if he was crazy.  

“John! For fucks sake, what did you do?!”

He turned his gaze towards the unmistakeable voice of Roger calling out in surprise and concern. He pulled his arm back from the broken window, blood was now dripping down on the floor and looked at it again.

“I seem to have put my hand through this window,” he stated as if it was most normal thing in the world.

He started giggling, which he knew wasn’t appropriate at all, but he couldn’t help himself. Brian and Freddie looked at him as if he had gone mad and the bloke quietly backed off obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

“What are you laughing about?” Roger snapped, “what could be possibly funny about this situation?” pointing at this arm.

He stopped laughing when he stared in Roger’s blue eyes filled with worry, and tried to suppress another chuckle, “I’m sorry, no… it’s not funny,” and pressed his lips together, but he couldn’t help himself and started giggling again.

“John!” Roger groaned.

“Darling, how much did you have to drink?” Freddie asked not being able to hide his amusement.

“Oh, you know…” he started, indicating with his thumb and index finger, “just a teeny tiny bit.” 

Freddie couldn’t help but laugh, and Roger rolled his eyes. “Fred don’t humour him!”

“Maybe you should take him to a doctor Rog?” Brian offered, “that arm doesn’t look so good.”

“You think so?” Roger replied sarcastically, walking towards John and eyeing his arm.  

Brian put up his hands up in defence, “no need to bite my head off.” Brian said quietly.

Roger took a big breath, “sorry Bri, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s alright, just get him patched up,” he said with a concerned look at John’s arm that was still dripping with blood.

Freddie asked the bartender for a clean dishcloth, so that they could wrap up John’s arm for the time being. John still didn’t feel anything and didn’t know why they were making such a big fuss; it didn’t seem so bad.

“Come on John,” Roger said while he pulled John carefully with him towards the exit.

John was still giggling, “Roger, I’m fine, let’s have another drink.”

“You had enough drinks for the next month!”

Freddie and Brian watched them walk away, worried about their friend for more than one reason. They had never seen John act like this. Brian slightly turned his cheek so he could look at Freddie from the corner of his eye, “remember me to not piss John off.”

Freddie laughed, “just don’t hit on Roger, and you should be safe darling.”

 

 

***

 

 

“Where are we going?” John asked slurring his words, when they were outside on the sidewalk.

Roger sighed seemingly losing his patience, “the doctor.”

“Ugh,” he crinkled his nose by hearing the word doctor, “Rog… my arm’s f… fine,” he said, his voice raising an octave, “it doesn’t even hurt.”

Roger wasn’t having none of it and pulled him in the car that was already waiting for them, being in a world famous rock band came in handy at times. He let John crawl in before him, so that he couldn’t escape. “You put your arm through a fucking window John! You were bleeding all over the place, you need stitches.”

“Can you get us to the emergency room?” he asked the driver.

Even in his drunken state he knew it was best not to talk back at Roger when he got like this, it was only because he was really worried, but one did not mess with Roger Taylor’s temper and he stayed silent for most of the ride to the emergency room. He rested his head on Roger’s shoulder who was watching through the window.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed softly.

Roger turned his head and stroked his cheekbone with his thumb, worry still lingering in his face, “it’s alright, I’m just worried about you.”

John closed his eyes and held his wrapped arm close to him. “I’m fine,” he said again.

Roger chuckled, “if you say so,” turning his head to watch out the window again.

The rest of the drive was silent, and John almost drifted off, but the ride wasn’t long enough for that. He blinked when Roger softly nudged him, to let him know they were there. He was still way too drunk to feel anything, and he had a hard time focussing his eyes on where they were. He could see what looked like ambulances standing outside, but he couldn’t be completely sure.

Roger carefully helped him out of the car, he swayed a little on his feet, obviously not having regained his motor skills. Roger supported him inside, where they have to fill in the mandatory forms. They waited in the waiting room, while Roger nervously drummed his fingers on his legs, probably worried about them being recognized, thankfully it didn’t take too long before they were called in the examining room.

“John Deacon?” a young woman called from where she was standing in the doorway.

The few people in the waiting room turned their heads when they heard the familiar name being called. Searching for John, and softly whispering to each other. 

“Present!” John called from his seat and stood up to quickly so that Roger quickly had to rush to his side so that he wouldn’t tumble over.

They followed the nurse to the examination room, where John was being seated on the exam chair, “the doctor will be with you shortly,” she smiled and closed the door behind her and left them alone to wait for the doctor.

“Rog! can you lock the door?” John asked with a mischievous smile.  

Roger turned around a look of confusion on his face, “what? no, I’m not locking the door.”

John smirked, “shame, I was going to suggest that I’d suck you off.”

Several emotions passed Roger’s face and John thought it was priceless, the way he opened his mouth and closed it again, made him look like a fish trying to gasp for air on dry land, after that he quickly collected himself, he didn’t seem to turned off by the idea, amusement now clear on his face.    

He stood next to him and smiled, “John, you have glass in your arm, and you are very drunk.”

“Good thing I only really need my mouth then,” he said while dragging his good hand from Roger’s chest to the waistband of his jeans, “and that never stopped us before?”

Roger chuckled and took his hand, “true, but you decided to put your fist through a window, so now you have to be a good boy and wait for the doctor.”

“Okay, but what’s in it for me?”

“Your arm is going to be stitched up and you’ll be able to play your bass again?”

John pouted, “you’re no fun.”

“You think I’m enjoying this?” he smiled, “I have to be the sensible one for a change,” and kissed John’s hand.

“Fair enough,” he said and smiled at Roger’s sweet gesture.

Roger pulled up a chair with the back towards John and sat down facing him, his arms resting on the back of the chair. “So, Mr calm and collected, are you going to tell me what that window did to you to deserve your fury?” 

He had figured this question was going to come up, and he was beginning to feel really silly about the whole thing. Now that he was sobering up more, he could also feel the sting in his arm, how the wounds burned, and a faint pain was running from his hand up to his elbow. Roger looked at him with concern when he winched as he shifted his arm.

“I was frustrated,” he said while he turned his gaze away from Roger suddenly very interested in the was on the counter next to him.

Roger laughed, “really? I had no idea.”

John groaned and returned his gaze on Roger, “fine, but you are just going to take the piss,”

“Try me.”

He sighed and looked down when Roger waited for him to start, “well you know before… at the party?

“Yes?”

“There was that one dude who was obviously hitting on you,” John paused, he could feel his cheeks heating up while he explained, and it was even more silly when he heard himself say it, but he continued anyway, “then he started touching you and I just got… I don’t know… like really…”

“Jealous?” Roger offered.

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes, “thank you, I know it's stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, but I’m sure this will come as no surprise to you, but you don’t need to be jealous, you are all I think about.”

He looked up and met Roger’s eyes, focused on him, like they always were, and he knew he was right. But it made him even more upset about the fact that he couldn’t be open to the world about how much he loved him.  

“It’s not just that though.”

Roger tilted his head, “what is it then?” he asked lacing his fingers with John’s.

“It’s just that… I realized how frustrated I am about the fact that we are in a relationship, but I can’t even hold your hand or kiss you in public,” he paused and squeezed Roger’s hand softly and continued, “when people hit on you, it just makes me want to tell them to fuck right off, that you are mine… like with that man tonight, but I couldn’t do that, so I punched the first thing in my reach.”

He looked up and saw Roger staring at him with a smile, “I’m sure we both agree that it wasn’t your best idea,” he stood up and leaned over the back of the chair, with one finger he softly pushed John’s chin up, “but I love you,” and planted kisses on his chin and his jaw until he met his lips. John sighed into the kiss, it was gentle and soft, just lips softly touching. When they broke the kiss, Roger moved back to softly peck him on the lips a few times, until they heard someone clear their throat.

“Ahem.”

 

***

 

 

They quickly pulled back, and Roger slowly turned around and John leaned forward to gaze past Roger, feeling his cheeks heat up when he saw a man with dark brown hair that was starting to grey, probably in his early fifties standing there in the doorway, who was obviously his doctor.

He acted like he didn’t just walk in on them kissing, “Mr Deacon, my name is Dr Edwards, I’ll be your doctor tonight,” he said when walked towards them and closed the door behind him.

He extended his hand, which John tried to shake as best as he could with his left hand, the angle a bit awkward. “I read you had a little accident.”

He also shook Roger’s hand before he moved to John’s other side, but it was obvious Roger wished the ground would swallow him whole. He was suddenly very interested in the clock that hung on the wall, signalling it was almost one in the morning.

“Uhm… yes, you could call it that,” John said feeling embarrassed, but not just because of his arm.

“Well, let’s have a look then shall we,” Dr Edwards said and gently took the dishcloth of John’s arm, which looked pretty bad, with all the cuts, blood and pieces of glass still stuck in there.

John winched when the doctor softly pulled on his arm, so that he could take a better look at it.

“Hmm, that’s going to need quite a few stitches, and I’m going to have to get the remaining glass out of your arm,” he said while he examined his arm, “would you mind telling me how this happened?”

The doctor sat himself down on a stool next to John and started working on his arm in the meantime, cleaning it and started picking the glass out of the wounds with surgical tweezers.

“Uhm...” John hesitated and shared a look with Roger, who shrugged like he didn’t know what he should say, so he decided to be honest with him. “I had a little too much to drink and put my fist through a window,” he explained without the reasoning behind it, while he avoided the doctors gaze.

“I see,” Dr Edwards couldn’t hide the smile that passed his face, while he kept on picking out the last few pieces of glass and reaching for the supplies, he needed to start stitching up John’s arm. “I would definitely advice against that.”

Roger couldn’t suppress a chuckle and John squinted his eyes at him and pinched his arse, making him jump, before he turned his attention back to the doctor and paused before asking, “I well… will I be able to play bass, with my arm like this?”

The doctor kept on doing what he was doing; stitching up John’s arm, not looking up when he responded with a smile, “I would hope so, I have tickets for you guys’ show the day after tomorrow.”

John blinked a few times, not sure what to say. Roger awkwardly rocked back and forth on his heels. They should have known people were going to recognize them, but he never really thought about it when he stepped into the examination room.

“You should be fine Mr Deacon,” Dr Edwards said lifting his head to give him a reassuring smile.

John nodded, “good.”

Dr Edwards continued what he was doing, and John was starting to feel a bit queasy from the pain he was now definitely feeling, cursing at himself for letting his temper get the best of him. He hoped that the doctor was almost finished. Time seemed to go excruciatingly slow, and he was afraid he was going to throw up. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against Roger’s arm who was still standing next to him and who grabbed his hand when he noticed John’s discomfort. He didn’t care about the doctor seeing, he had already seen them kissing anyway.

“Are you a Queen fan then?” Roger suddenly asked, probably trying to keep the conversation going so that John could focus on something else.

He kept working while he answered Roger, “ah I enjoy your music, but it’s mostly my son who is the big fan, so I’m taking him to your show as a surprise for his birthday.”

Roger grinned, “that’s a great gift, if I do say so myself.”

John opened his eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle. Dr Edwards laughed softly, “I’m glad you think so, I hope he does too.”

It didn’t take long before he finished the last suture, and John was happy for it, because he was starting to feel light headed and the room seemed to be spinning.

“Well that was the last one,” he said and wrapped his arm in bandages.

John exhaled, “thank god.”

“I’ll prescribe you some painkillers and you should visit your own doctor, when you get back home to get those looked at,” he said while removing his gloves and throwing them in the bin. “I would refrain from putting fists through windows from now on.”

John smiled awkwardly, “I will definitely not be doing that again, but are you sure I will be able to play?”

“It should be fine, just take enough rest before,” and handed him the prescription.

John nodded and Roger supported him while he got out of the chair. They both gave the doctor a hand, “thanks Dr Edwards,” John said, and he wanted to walk to the door, but noticed Roger hesitated before walking with him and saw him glancing at the doctor. He could practically see him thinking, he shared a look with John before he spoke.

“Dr Edwards?” he asked, sounding nervous, the doctor looked up from where he was filling in forms, “uhm, before when you walked in? you probably saw something.” John could feel Roger’s discomfort by having to bring this up and held his breath also feeling quite nervous, when he continued.

“We would appreciate it if…”

“I haven’t seen anything Mr. Taylor,” he interrupted and gave him a reassuring smile.

Roger and John looked at him with confusion, “but… when you…” Roger continued.

Dr Edwards was still smiling, “I have patient confidentiality, no need to worry, nothing leaves this room.”

Roger let out a soft sigh of relief and nodded, “thank you very much.”

John smiled, “thanks, I hope you and your son will enjoy the show this week.”

The doctor returned his smile, “I’m sure we will, take care.”

Roger put his hand on John’s back and guided him out the exam room. When they got the medication, they quickly got out of the emergency room and to the car that was still waiting for them to bring them back to the hotel.

“Nice chap,” Roger said when they got in the car, “I like him.”

John snorted, “you are only saying that because he’s coming to our show.”

“Maybe,” Roger chuckled, “he was cool though, you know?”

“I know.”

John knew what Roger was talking about, he was relieved too that the doctor didn’t say anything about them and wasn’t going to run to the press after they left. As much as he wanted the world to know about them, that he and Roger were together, he wouldn’t want the world finding out through the press. They would figure it out in their own time, and they would decide when the time was right. In the meantime, John would just make sure he wasn’t near any windows when people were hitting on Roger.

He looked at Roger again, who was staring out of the window his head resting on his hand and remembered what he had said in the examination room before Dr Edwards interrupted them.

“Rog?”

Roger turned his face to meet his eyes, “hmm?”

“I love you too.”

Roger smiled and took his good hand in his and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss, he then whispered in his ear, “you still owe me a blowjob.”

John chuckled shaking his head, “way to ruin the moment,” and leaned in to give him another kiss.

 

                                              

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed my take on it! let me know what you think.


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